Lady Chatterley

Laura Clifford

Robin Clifford

Cowriter (with Roger Bohbot, "Kings & Queen")/director Pascale
Ferran adapts D.H. Lawrence's little known middle version of the novel most
only know as the once-banned "Lady Chatterley's Lover." "John Thomas
and Lady Jane" is regarded as the most tender of his three versions telling
the tale of the roughly hewn gamekeeper who comes to love "Lady Chatterley."

Laura:
Female director Ferran explains that she was drawn to this, second version
of Lawrence's story because the characters were more obviously from different
worlds and experienced, rather than talked about, their blossoming under each
other's influence. She has dynamically yet lyrically evoked this in
her beautiful film which illustrates the nurturing necessity of the natural
and physical in addition to the societal and intellectual.

Constance Chatterley (Marina Hands, "The Barbarian Invasions") is introduced
as a young devoted and demure wife. Her husband, Clifford (Hippolyte
Girardot, "The Moustache," "Paris, je t'aime") has returned from the war in
a wheelchair. Their physical intimacy now consists of her giving him sponge
baths. Clifford is content, but Connie begins to bristle and when her
sister Hilda (Hélène Fillières, "Vendredi soir") threatens
to remove her to London, Clifford relents and hires a nurse, Mrs. Bolton (Hélène
Alexandridis, "They Came Back"). Her time now freer, Connie begins
to explore the grounds of their estate, and is taken aback when, outside
the gamekeeper's hut, she spies Parkin (Jean-Louis Coulloc'h, a kind of Gallic
Klaus Maria Brandauer type) washing, naked from the waist up, and flees (note
the sexual connection to her husband here).

But, thankfully for us, she returns to the hut and begins a slow, initially
nonverbal relationship with the man who chops wood and tends to birds.
When, huddled over a group of newborn chicks, Connie becomes emotional over
the little bird's innocent trust, Parkin is overcome and their relationship
becomes physical. But there is always that issue of class which keeps
him wary of her feelings, even as we see her discuss such things as the plight
of miners employed by Lord Chatterley and the merits of socialism with her
husband. Exposure to the natural world and the working people living
within it expand Lady Chatterley's intellectual curiosity and make her want
to experience more. She begins to yearn for a child.

Ferran's film is a feminist awakening beautifully photographed by Julien
Hirsch ("Notre musique"). Editors Yann Dedet and Mathilde Muyard frequently
use cut to blacks between short scenes to enhance our perception of the senses
in these little snippets and Hirsch's camera settles in quite close so that
along with Parkin we observe a slight sheen of sweat on Connie's skin. The
sex scenes are frank but not exploitative and begin very clothed, progressing
gradually to nudity and exploration of the body (with flowers!). The actors
are all very good, from Girardot's sense of entitlement to Alexandridis's
disapproving air, but the film revolves around Hands, whose forthright eyes,
happiness and sense of fairness ensure the character is always sympathetic.
She has fortitude without ever losing femininity. Jean-Louis Coulloc'h
is an able partner, rugged yet gentle, quiet but expressive.

This winner of 5 Cesar awards, including Best Picture and Best Actress,
runs almost three hours, yet never seems overlong. Ferran keeps the
indoors domestic drama and its counterpointed outdoors romance engaging without
tipping into melodrama and Hirsch keeps it a delight for the eyes with such
visual wonders as a long shot of a silhouetted Constance suddenly exploding
into red as she exits a gate and the light hits her. "Lady Chatterley"
is a work of refined sensuality.